


[clever eyeball pun]

by Red Dragon (Red_Dragonn)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Body Horror, Crack, F/M, Humor, amd has been for a while, ngl tho this is a solid headcanon of mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dragonn/pseuds/Red%20Dragon
Summary: Ratchet rolled his optics so hard that I worried they may fall out.well what if they did





	[clever eyeball pun]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suna_scribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suna_scribbles/gifts).



“Does the patient ever actually have lupus?”

“I think maybe once or twice. But that’s it.”

“Is it a common enough disease to warrant a diagnosis in every single episode?”

“Nope. But Cameron is an immunologist, so she suggests it, like, every five minutes.”

“I prefer House to Cameron.”

“What a surprise.”

I readjusted in Ratchet’s lap as we continued to the next episode, waiting impatiently for the video to load on one of Ratchet’s main screens. He was sitting upright, albeit crookedly as he leaned against the wall behind him, and I smiled widely at his progress. Standing and walking for more than a few steps still exhausted him, but after only two weeks he was able to sit comfortably instead of lay down. Most of the time, at least. I blamed it all partially on his ridiculous stubbornness and increasing frustration with me as his resident doctor, but the headway he had made was impressive nonetheless.

I had shown him an episode of  _ House _ to try and make a point about how hard he was to deal with in his incapacitated state, and unfortunately, he liked the titular character just a bit too much. “Of course you like him,” Drift had said with a snigger. “He’s  _ you _ .”

Nonetheless, despite all the arguing, manhandling, exasperation, and waking up in the middle of the night because Ratchet had fallen over trying to modify his own nightly energon drip, he was doing far better than anyone had anticipated. Which only made him  _ more  _ insistent on being his own doctor.

The video’s progress was suddenly interrupted by a small  _ beep _ and a flashing notification on the corner of Ratchet’s screen. He frowned as he peered at it, optics narrowing.

“That’s strange,” he murmured.

I was more concerned as to why the video was taking so long to start. “Why? Isn’t it just a message from someone?”

“No,” Ratchet said, tone suddenly cold as ice. “Whoever it’s from, they didn’t send an identifier. This isn’t from one of us.”

He started to shift as though to stand, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll get it,” I said firmly, hopping from Ratchet’s lap and crawling over Drift, who had entered shutdown at Ratchet’s feet and appeared to be completely out of commission. I tiptoed past his sharp head as I strolled toward the massive screen, opening the message and transcribing it aloud for Ratchet.

“‘I have information for and regarding the human,’” I read. “‘I wish to speak with her alone.’ And a set of coordinates.”

“Any signature?” 

I pressed a few buttons, and a muddled image of the sender slowly formed. I groaned, quickly understanding why there was no brightly identified sender.

“Starscream,” I muttered.

“ _ Starscream? _ ” Ratchet looked both incredulous and suspicious. “What does  _ he  _ want?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” I said uncertainly. “It looks like he sent this from a personal device, not from a Decepticon computer. Why would he do that?”

Curiosity was flooding through me, destroying all hope I had of common sense as I turned to Ratchet. “I should at least go find out what he wants, right?” I said.

“Are you an _idiot?_ ”

“Well—”

“I’m not letting you spend any more time with Decepticons than you have to, especially not  _ alone! _ ”

“But—”

“Absolutely not!”

The ruckus had roused Drift, who was struggling upright and rubbing his optics. “Was it lupus?” he asked groggily.

“Hana got a message from Starscream. He wants to meet with her,” Ratchet said darkly.

“Really?” Drift stretched, arching his back like an oversized cat. “Sounds cool! What does he—”

“You’re  _ both  _ morons,” Ratchet snapped. “What possible reason could Starscream have for meeting with Hana that wouldn’t result in her death or kidnap?”

Drift and I shrugged in sync.

“We all know what Starscream’s like,” Drift said. “Maybe he wants to help us.”

“Why in  _ Primus’ name _ would he want to help us?”

“He did send the message from his own datapad,” I said pointedly. “So maybe it’s something he doesn’t want Megatron to see.”

Ratchet scowled. “It’s a terrible idea,” he said, ignoring me.

“But it’s been, like, a month since anyone’s had any terrible ideas!” I whined. “It’s getting boring around here!” Drift nodded in vigorous agreement. 

Ratchet rolled his optics. 

Then he slapped a massive servo to his face, and Drift snickered. 

“What just happened?” Hana asked. 

Drift’s snickering increased in both pitch and volume. 

Ratchet sighed. He did not, distinctly, remove his hand from over his optics. “ _ Drift  _ here just has the sense of humor of a sparkling.”

Drift stopped laughing, took one look at him, and then went off into another fit of hysterics.

“Uh,” said Hana. 

“Ask,” Drift choked out, “ask him, to, to, to show you his—”

“Shut up, Drift,” Ratchet said. His mouth turned down as though he were glaring, but considering he had a pair of hands clasped directly over his eyes, it didn’t quite have the same impact. Drift went off again. He was starting to leak majenta tears from the corners of his eyes, he was laughing so hard. 

“His eyes,” Drift finally managed. “L—Hana—have him—ahahahaa—make him give you—”

“ _ Drift,”  _ Ratchet warned. “Stop.”

“Make him, give, give you his… eyes,” Drift finally choked out.

“ _ Uh,”  _ said Hana. 

Ratchet’s frown intensified.

He did not move his hands.

“Uh, Ratchet?” Hana said. “What the hell does that mean?”

Drift lifted a shaking hand, still laughing uncontrollably, and poked at Ratchet’s face. 

Ratchet jumped and then swatted him away with one hand. From behind it, now that it was freed, his entire eye rolled out of his eye socket and fell to the floor with an audible clash. It was the size of a beach ball outside of Ratchet’s head, and there was a distinct scuff pattern along the top where it  _ had _ to have been scraping across his eyelids. 

From rolling his eyes too often.

What the  _ fuck _ . 

Hana yelped and looked up at Ratchet, who looked significantly less attractive, friendly, or otherwise vaguely pleasant with a glowing blue hole where his eye used to be. With a sigh, Ratchet put his hand down, waved it around a bit over the floor, and then tilted his eye up. “Stop giving me that look.”

“ _ Uhhhhh,”  _ Hana said, looking from the eyeball on the floor to Ratchet and back. “Can you still see?”

Ratchet somehow managed to give her a sarcastic look even with a gaping hole taking up approximately half his face and causing the rest of it to cave in horrifically. “Obviously.”

Drift made a genuinely horrific wheezing noise and fell over.

Ratchet took his other hand away from his face, and of course that eye was missing, too. He picked his eyeball up between two fingers like he was holding a marble and pointed it at Drift. 

The entire top section of his face was concave. It was vaguely horrifying. 

Drift looked up, tears leaking down his face, caught  _ one glimpse of ratchet’s eye in his hand _ and flopped back down again. His laughter by now was so high pitched that it was like listening to a dog whistle. It made Hana’s ears hurt. 

“Stop,” Ratchet said. 

Drift wheezed at him.

“Are they supposed to do that?” Hana asked, trying not to sound as genuinely horrified as she felt. 

Ratchet sighed. “Yes, they’re  _ supposed to do that _ , otherwise they  _ wouldn’t _ .”

“It’s not like you warned me about this!”

“I… uh,” said Ratchet. “Was. Waiting. For the right moment. Yes.”

Drift’s laughter finally reached a pitch outside the human range of hearing.

“Why?”

“Uh,” said Ratchet.

Drift waved his hands for a moment and visibly tried and failed to stop laughing. “He—he—he—he used to—when we were Sparklings he—we—he,” he choked, “he—he would—that,” and then he dissolved into laughter and the rest of his words were completely incoherent despite the fact that he clearly continued talking.

Ratchet looked like he was twelve seconds from shoving his eyeball down Drift’s throat. “Shut up!”

Drift said, “01100001 01101000 01100001 01101000 01100001 01100001 01100001 01100001!” and then looked surprised at the string of numbers coming out of his mouth.

Ratchet hit him on the top of the head. “ _ Stop _ it!”

“Why do your eyeballs come out?” Hana asked, somewhat frantically.

“They just do,” Ratchet said, and made a noise somewhere between a grumble and a full on snarl. “Drift, would you  _ stop laughing now?  _ For frag’s sake, it can’t be  _ that  _ funny.”

“Do you...do you remember,” Drift wheezed, as Ratchet shoved his eyeballs roughly back into their sockets. “That time. Back in the Academy. Do you. Do you remember when we stuck your eye in, in, in the punch and—”

Ratchet’s mouth slowly started to get wigglier. “And Whirl ate it and nearly gave me a heart attack?”

“Yeah!” Drift said, and grinned. “And we had to get it back?”

Ratchet’s mouth went from frowning to very much suppressing a grin in about twelve seconds flat. “Yes! God, those were the days.”

“What,” said Hana.

“What?” said Drift.

“What nothing,” said Ratchet. “You never heard any of this—”

Hana’s protests were lost in another see of Drift absolutely losing his shit laughing.


End file.
